


You Better Watch Out

by spacehopper



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Poor Life Choices, Santa Ardyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 08:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13142823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: Prompto had believed in Shiva’s Messenger, who some simply called the Blessed, long after other kids had dismissed him as a fairy story.But he'd never expected to actually meet him.(Inspired by this pic from the Playstation Blog of Santa Ardyn with Prompto in the airship: https://www.flickr.com/photos/playstationblog/25314280948/ )





	You Better Watch Out

Prompto had believed in Shiva’s Messenger, who some simply called the Blessed, long after other kids had dismissed him as a fairy story. It was just something their parents told them to make up for the fact they hadn’t gotten the gifts they wanted on the last night of Shiva’s Festival. Or a threat that if they didn’t behave, the Blessed wouldn’t come. Instead his brother, the Accursed, would slither down the chimney and turn them all to daemons. 

His parents had told him neither story. They’d simply bought him what he wanted, and told him the truth. But Prompto believed anyway. Because nothing his parents could say would ever explain the two strange gifts he’d received, seven years apart.

The first had been when he was just seven years old. He’d come home crying at a cruel remark some boy or girl had made, one he could no longer remember. His mother had been home, but she’d been locked in her office, on some important call, and he knew better than to disturb her. He wasn’t a baby, after all. So he’d gone to his room, and on his bed had sat a small toy robot. He’d reached out a hand, then hesitated. Why would there be a gift now? He normally didn’t get his presents until the morning. And his parents wouldn’t deviate from routine, methodical and scientific. So this was something else.

He picked up the robot, studying it carefully. It wasn’t like the ones he’d seen kids bring to school. It seemed more advanced, made of shinier metal. Tougher. Stronger. And something glowed red inside. He sat on his bed, trying to pry at the casing, but nothing he did would loosen it. Finally he flopped back, and held it above him, staring into its slitted eyes. It was a cool toy, and he didn’t want to break it.

Who cared what might be inside.

Then six years passed, and Prompto grew and changed, and eventually forgot about the robot, just another of many toys left in the wake of adolescence. Until he came home one day, seven years since the first gift, and threw himself onto his bed, wishing desperately for sleep. He knew he had to get up, had to jog, especially with Shiva’s Festival tomorrow. With a groan, he hauled himself to his feet. He’d been at school late today, and the sky was already dark. He’d never liked jogging at night. Maybe it was paranoid, but he sometimes felt like someone was watching him, waiting for the right moment. 

“Cool it, Argentum,” he muttered to himself, then managed a short laugh. As he went over to his closet, he noticed something glinting on his end table. 

A knife.

“What the hell.”

His eyes darted around the room. Had it been there when he came it? He walked over to the window, checking the latch. Fastened tight. His gaze slid towards the door, then caught on a dusty object on a shelf. He crossed the room and picked it up, pressing the button at the back and setting it on the desk. It marched down the wooden surface in perfect form, stopping and turning at the end while giving Prompto a salute. 

When he’d told the boy who sat next to him about the robot, he’d been sneered at him and told he was a baby. And over time, Prompto had come to assume it’d be given to him by his parents. But they’d never mentioned it, his father even once asking if he’d bought it with his allowance. 

He set the robot down, and went to pick up the knife, sliding it out of the sheath. It shone in the moonlight, blade wickedly sharp. He was no expert, but it looked expensive, even more so than the robot. He tested the edge with a finger, and hissed.

“Damn it.” Blood dribbled down his finger, staining the blade, and disappearing into it, as if swallowed by the metal.

“Okay, that’s creepy.” But it was probably just a trick of the light, or his own tiredness. He needed to bandage his finger, and get running.

But he took the knife with him, and felt safer for it. 

*

“Home sweet home.” Prompto dropped his keys on the end table and himself on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen through half-closed eyes. Training had been brutal today. Why the hell had he signed up for the Crownsguard anyway? Who expected you to train like that a day before the biggest holiday of the year?

Which reminded him. He grabbed his phone, quickly tapping out holidays greetings to his friends, with an added “you asshole” to Gladio, who was responsible for most of his bruises. Then he raised his arms above his head in a vain attempt to ease his sore muscles, and winced when something twinged in his shoulder. Great, that’d smart in the morning. But the best solution for these sorts of aches and pains was a sappy holiday movie and a cup of spiked hot cocoa.

In pursuit of that end, he wandered into the kitchen, flipping on the radio and humming snatches of some tune that was playing as he heated the milk and mixed in the chocolate. Once it was combined into a creamy smooth whole, he added a dash of rum and topped it with whipped cream, then took a sip. Ah, that was the good stuff. He leaned back against the counter with his eyes closed, going over his plans for tomorrow. Noct was busy with official stuff, and Gladio was spending it with his family, but Iggy said he’d be free later. Maybe Prompto could get him to watch a dumb movie, and laugh at all the pained expression he made when Prompto was looking, and enjoy the small smiles when he wasn’t. Yeah, that’d be a good way to spend the holiday.

He set the cup down, about the head into the living room, when he heard what sounded like jingling and then—the whir of an airship? That wasn’t possible, no way could an airship get into Insomnia. Probably just someone watching TV too loud or something. Yeah, that was it. 

And yet despite that, he still unsheathed the knife he’d kept all these years, that he hadn’t put in the Armiger. Just in case. He crept into the living room, his every step sounding like thunder, his heart beating a million miles an hour. As he inched into the room, he relaxed. It was empty.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” A deep, smooth voice said into his ear. 

Prompto whirled, slashing with his knife. It ripped through a trailing line of fabric before a hand caught his wrist, squeezing painfully until he dropped the knife before tugging him against the man’s chest, an arm pressed hard against his throat.

“While I’m glad to see you’re using my gift,” he said, breath whispering against Prompto’s skin in a way that made him shudder. “I’d prefer you didn’t use it on me.” With that, he let Prompto go, and Prompto whirled around to face him. 

The man before him was leaning against the wall, dressed in an odd, multi-layered red and green outfit, topped off with wild red-violet hair and strange amber eyes. And Prompto knew exactly who he had to be.

“No fucking way,” he said. He wanted to take a step back, maybe leave the apartment entirely to clear his head, but he was transfixed in place by the man. “It’s not possible.”

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, you’ll find very little is impossible.” There was something almost sinister about the way he said it, but Prompto shook his unease off. He had to know. 

“You can’t be—” He stumbled over the words as the man took a confident step towards him, coat swirling around his legs. 

“Can’t be who?” he said, taking another step, almost close enough for Prompto to reach out and touch now. His hair had fallen in his eyes, and his mouth was twisted into a smirk. Prompto braced himself against the back of the couch, fingers digging into the thin, worn fabric. 

“The Blessed,” he said. “Shiva’s Messenger. Who brings good little girls and boys gifts every midwinter.” He felt ridiculous as the words left his mouth. This was just some creep off the street, trying to fuck with him. And yet there was something different, something otherworldly about him. Something that made Prompto want to believe.

“Have you been good?” the man said. He’d closed the final gap. Prompto could feel the heat radiating from his body. The man leaned in, fingers brushing loose hair out of Prompto’s face. He was kind of hot, even if he was a couple decades older. Or millenia, if he really was who he said. Prompto groaned. Was he really standing here, thinking a fairy tale was hot?

“Oh, do make that noise again,” the man purred, pressing his body against Prompto’s. “I thought I’d give your gift a personal touch this year. Would you like that?” His lips brushed the skin just under Prompto’s ear, then moved slowly down his jaw. His eyes fell shut, and he tipped his head back. Hot breath mingled with his own, but the touch never came. He opened his eyes. He was expected to answer.

“Yes,” he said. Because there was no way he was lying. He had to be the Blessed. How else would he know about the knife? Prompto had never told a soul. And he didn’t really want to be alone. Not now. 

Not ever. 

“Good,” the Blessed said. “Call me Ardyn, please. The other names are just so cumbersome, and really unsuited for such—” He kissed Prompto, slow and sweet, his tongue just brushing Prompto’s lips. “—an intimate encounter.” He withdrew, one hand cupping the back of Prompto’s neck.

Ardyn guided him gently towards his bedroom, one hand possessive on his waist, while Prompto questioned his own sanity. Had he really just agreed to have sex with a strange man who may or may not be the Blessed? Was he really that desperate? 

As they crossed the threshold to Prompto’s room, he heard a snatch of music coming from the radio, still quietly playing seasonal tunes.

_I saw Mommy kissing—_

Ardyn laughed in delight. “How apropos,” he said, spinning Prompto around and pressing him against the wall, fingers in his hair tilting his head up into a kiss. This time it wasn’t just a brush of the tongue, but the full force, pressing his mouth open, overwhelming him with the heat and the strange feeling of fullness. He grabbed onto the lapels of Ardyn’s coat for support, going boneless against the wall, faint moan passing his lips. He really was going to do this, wasn’t he.

“A taste of what’s to come,” Ardyn said, breaking the kiss and tugging him upright. What’s to come. Prompto shuddered, part fear and part anticipation. His cheeks were hot, his lips wet with another man’s saliva. He licked them, and Ardyn laughed. 

“You are delightful, aren’t you,” he said. “I am so very glad I chose this as my own gift.”

Prompto opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but the words died on his tongue as Ardyn’s hands slid under his shirt, rubbing circles in the bare skin of his back, wonderfully hot. 

“In old Solheim, reciprocity was paramount,” Ardyn said, answering the question he hadn’t asked. “So while I am giving you a gift, you’re the gift I’m giving myself.” His hands moved to Prompto’s chest, sliding slowly over his abdomen, then higher, briefly tweaking his nipples. Prompto squeaked at the unexpected pinch. “And I do so enjoy unwrapping presents.” He yanked Prompto’s shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly to the side. 

Then he pulled two red silken ribbons from his pocket. 

“Please, hold out your wrists,” he said. Prompto did as he was told, then pulled back abruptly as Ardyn moved to tie the ribbon around them. 

“What are you doing?” Prompto said. Though did it really matter? Chances were he’d let Ardyn do it regardless. 

“I like my presents to have a decorative bow on top,” Ardyn said. “Your wrists. Unless you wish to stop.”

“No,” Prompto said, thrusting his wrists forward. It was just a ribbon anyway. Not like Ardyn was going to manacle him to the wall in his sex dungeon. 

He hoped.

The ribbons felt wonderful against his skin, cool and satin smooth. Ardyn worked quickly, tying one, then the other, into two tight knots, and left the ends dangling. Prompto tugged at them curiously. They weren’t tight enough to hurt, but he wouldn’t be slipping these off anytime soon either. 

While he was examining the ribbons, Ardyn had dropped to his knees in from of him, running a hand up his still clothed leg. Prompto stood stock still, sucking his breath in as Ardyn reached the top, fingers lingering for the briefest second over his straining erection. He looked up, met Prompto’s eyes, and smiled, and favored him with a feather light touch, only the tip of his thumb, running slowly along his cock through the fabric. Prompto gasped, trying to push into it, but Ardyn immediately pulled away. 

“Tsk, tsk,” he said, shaking his head. “We can’t have that. Not quite yet.” Prompto swallowed and nodded. He could wait. He had to wait. Ardyn, in acknowledgment of his obedience, pressed a light kiss to the taut fabric, and Prompto remained perfectly still, as painful as it was. 

“Good,” Ardyn said. He began to unbutton Prompto’s pants, then moved to the zipper, slowly pulling them down, with the faintest bite of slightly too sharp nails grazing against his skin. He stepped out of them, and then Ardyn stood and took a step back.

“Remove your remaining clothing and lie on the bed,” he said. 

If he did this, he’d be fully naked with Ardyn, fully exposed. Not that Ardyn wasn’t already aware just how turned on he was. But at least his boxers offered some scant protection, some plausible deniability, against whatever was happening here. 

Prompto pulled his boxers down and left them with his pants, biting his lip to keep in the sound he made when the elastic brushed his cock. Then he went over to the bed, lying down, just as instructed. 

Ardyn came to him then, kneeling over him on the bed, the fabric of his coat brushing Prompto’s bare skin as he leaned over and picked up the ribbons, pulling Prompto’s arms above his head. He tied one arm, then the other, to the bed posts, with enough slack for Prompto to lay down, but not enough for him to touch anything, including himself. He was entirely at Ardyn’s mercy. 

He was painfully hard, erection bobbing as Ardyn sat back to admire his work. “So eager,” he said, a hand running down his leg. “And so festive as well. The color of the ribbons, the flush of your skin, ah, it paints such a lovely picture. I do so look forward to this.”

“Please,” Prompto managed to say. He felt like he was doing to die, if Ardyn didn’t do something soon. But instead of touching him, Ardyn got up to the window and cracked it slightly, before crossing the room. He stopped at the door, one hand on the door frame, and gave him an apologetic smile.

“I seem to have left a few things in my sleigh,” he said. “I will return momentarily.” 

Well, fuck.

Prompto squirmed, straining for friction that wasn’t there, that he had no damn chance of finding. And the breeze from the frigid air outside was making it worse, raising goosebumps on his skin in a way that was both horrifyingly uncomfortable and really, really hot. Or cold, in this case. How long had it been? He should be back now. And he had to be kidding about the sleigh, right?

Worst of all, it was giving Prompto far too much time to think, and question why he was doing this. Was he really this desperate to get laid? Really this lonely? He had friends. But his friends weren’t—this. He wanted this closeness, this contact. And maybe the feeling that for once, he was a little special, the nobody who’d somehow became friends with the prince. Special for who he was, not who his friends were. 

So yeah. This was crazy. And maybe he’d be stuck here until one of them found him and they laughed their asses off. But he was going to do this.

As if somehow aware of Prompto’s turmoil, it was then that Ardyn chose to return, removing an item from his coat and setting it on the nightstand. He’d removed his coat, though he was still otherwise clothed, but it was enough that Prompto could tell that despite his age, he was a fine looking man. 

His eyes wandered down Prompto with an appraising look, one hand on his waist, like Prompto was some meat he was buying in the shop. Buying for, well. Yeah. He flushed and squirmed, and Ardyn laughed darkly.

“Tell me what you desire,” he said, kneeling over Prompto once more. Prompto swallowed hard, struggling with the words. What was he supposed to say? Please fuck me, yes I am that desperate? So desperate I’ll let a strange man claiming to be a fairy tale tie me up? 

Ardyn ran his hands feather light over Prompto’s skin, down his chest and his legs. He shuddered. He knew Ardyn wouldn’t act if he didn’t say something.

“Anything,” he managed to gasp out as Ardyn brushed his aching cock. “Everything.”

“A dangerous request,” Ardyn said. Prompto groaned, and in response Ardyn teased him with the touch of a tongue on his cock, delicate and perfect and still not enough. Then he wrapped his mouth around the tip, sucking briefly, and Prompto’s hips bucked.

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Ardyn said. “It’s very rude, you know.”

“I—sorry,” Prompto said, straining for breath. He hadn’t imagined it’d be so overwhelming. “Please don’t stop.”

“Apology accepted,” Ardyn said, leaning over to the nightstand to grab the oil he’d been carrying. And it was definitely oil of some sort, not regular lube. Further proof Ardyn either was a huge creep, or exactly who he said. Or both.

He poured a generous amount of the oil over his fingers, then adjusted his position so that Prompto’s legs were spread, with Ardyn kneeling between them. Prompto had never felt so vulnerable in his life, and never so turned on. 

And then Ardyn pressed one finger inside him, grazing his prostate, and Prompto moaned. 

“Oh, the sounds you make,” Ardyn said, pressing another finger in, brushing his prostate before pushing deeper. “Like music to my ears.”

Some distant, buried part of Prompto was embarrassed, but it was lost under the pressure of Ardyn’s fingers, too much but still not quite enough, briefly caressing the sensitive nerves again. He added more oil, and more fingers, and fuck, that hurt. Prompto squirmed against him, and Ardyn smoothed his free hand up Prompto’s leg, briefly stroking his twitching cock. 

Then he pulled his fingers out, and leaning down, breath ghosting over Prompto’s cock. Prompto froze, as still as he could be. Then instead of putting his mouth on Prompto’s cock, Ardyn moved lower, and bit the inside of Prompto’s thigh.

“Ah, fuck,” he hissed, as Ardyn smoothed his tongue over the smarting wound. 

“Language, my dear,” Ardyn said. Then he stood, collecting the oil off the stand and depositing something else there, before heading to the door.

“The reward is always better when earned through effort. I’ll be waiting,” Ardyn said, then shut the door behind him.

What, no. He had to be kidding. How was Prompto going to get out of the ribbons? He strained, trying to pull free, but to no avail. They only tightened painfully around his wrists. But wait. Ardyn had set something on the nightstand.

He glanced over to see his knife on the nightstand. He considered it, twisting and straining as another breeze from the window caressed his sensitive skin. He had to get out. And he was pretty flexible. He contorted so that his leg reached the nightstand, wrapping his toes around it. There, he had it, now just to get it to his hand—

The knife clattered to the floor, and Prompto’s heart dropped. He could probably still reach it, but his toes weren’t exactly great for gripping. 

Then he had an idea.

Of all the aspects of being a Crownsguard, magic was the one he struggled with the most. He could shoot a gun, he could dodge (even if he looked like an idiot doing it), but when he’d tried spells he tended to set himself on fire. Or worse. And he’d also had trouble getting things in and out of the Armiger. The gun he had reliably now, but he’d lost a few things in there, or never got them into it in the first place. 

But if he could get this knife in, he’d have easy access, right where he needed it. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the harsh wind, and the aching need of his body, and instead focused on that little spark of light deep inside him. He closed his eyes, imagining the knife turning blue, becoming immaterial, and then—

He felt it in his hand as he summoned it. He grinned, and let out a tiny whoop. Maybe Ardyn had a point about success. He made quick work of the ribbons, and made his way into the living room, letting the knife disappear again. 

And stumbled to a halt, confronted with Ardyn sitting on the couch, now completely naked. Prompto swallowed. He watched Prompto like a coerl ready to pounce through heavy lidded eyes, with his own cock hard and ready and far larger than Prompto had expected between his legs.

Prompto whimpered.

“Come, sit on my lap, and tell me what you want,” Ardyn said with a beckoning hand. 

Sit on his lap, right. Prompto’s heart fluttered nervously, but he walked over anyway, as if drawn in by some impossible force, and kneeled over Ardyn’s legs. Their cocks brushed, and Prompto shuddered. But he didn’t move. He knew that wasn’t what Ardyn wanted. He locked his gaze with Ardyn’s, and saw his eyes were shading from amber to gold, like the cat he’d compared him to. Ardyn’s hands moved to grip his ass hard, guiding him down onto his cock. Prompto hissed at the intrusion, still too much despite the preparation. 

Ardyn pet his hair soothingly. Then he thrust all the way in, and Prompto groaned, half in pain and half in ecstasy. He’d never imagined it would be like this, terrible and wonderful at the same time. He thought that it might’ve been less painful, if Ardyn had taken more care. But he was getting the feeling that wasn’t the sort of person Ardyn was. 

And truth was, he didn’t want that. His breath hissed out as Ardyn guided him up and down again, even deeper.

“Relax,” he murmured into Prompto’s ear, tongue darting out to lick the shell. Then he pulled back a little, kissing Prompto, lips sweet and stubble rough on his face. And somehow, Prompto relaxed. 

Ardyn thrust up into him again, setting a steady pace, and the feeling of fullness, the friction, the heat, it was so fucking great. Prompto gasped and shuddered as Ardyn brushed his prostate. He always knew sex would be amazing, but this was even better than he’d imagined. 

The pace sped up, and Prompto bit his lip. As wonderful as the feeling of Ardyn filling him was, he wasn’t getting enough friction from his cock just rubbing against Ardyn’s stomach. He tried to move his own hand to his cock, to give him some relief. But fingers curling around his wrist stopped him, guiding his hand to Ardyn’s shoulder.

“The best gifts are those you wait for,” Ardyn said, rocking into him as Prompto bit back a moan. “Anticipation builds to exquisite release.”

Prompto whimpered, but complied. Ardyn had been right before, so it was best to listen to him now. He began to set a punishing pace, sometimes hitting his prostate, sometimes not, in a way that had to be intentional, a way to drag this along, keep Prompto just on the edge. He buried his face in Ardyn’s shoulder. He wanted this to last forever, and end right now, this ecstatic torture. 

Beneath him, Ardyn tensed, and Prompto knew he was close, and that maybe there’d be relief soon for Prompto as well. He felt Ardyn release one of the hands on his ass, and run it, just once, along his cock. He groaned as he felt a jolt of electricity in its wake, like magic, probably actual magic, and finally he came, spurting over Ardyn’s chest. He went boneless against Ardyn as he thrust into Prompto, harder and harder. It should probably hurt, but Prompto was so blissed out it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Finally he felt Ardyn tense once more, and come inside him, remaining still as Prompto shuddered through the afterglow.

He pulled out after an endless minute, and settled Prompto more comfortably on his lap. “Now tell me. What do you want?” he whispered in Prompto’s ear.

There are many things Prompto could ask for, probably should ask for. Useful things, like weapons, or money. Maybe he could even ask for state secrets, a way to defeat Niflheim, or just give Lucis an edge. After all, if Ardyn really was the Blessed, was Shiva’s Messenger, what couldn’t he get? Maybe he’d even tell him now.

“Come again,” Prompto said. 

He felt Ardyn’s lips curl against his neck as he drifted off.

“Oh, I will my dear. I will.”

*

When Prompto woke up the next morning, he was in his bed, and he was alone. On his nightstand was an Oracle Ascension Coin. He picked it up as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing at the ache in his muscles. The coin seemed like a promise, though of what, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he’d be keeping an eye out for Ardyn, whoever he was, myth or fairy tale.

Or something else entirely.


End file.
